


A Not So Sweet Sixteen

by AnonAnton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abuse, Fluff and Angst, John's A+ Parenting, M/M, Reunions, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8681680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAnton/pseuds/AnonAnton
Summary: Dean's skinny, spotty and scrawny. He's also invisible at school. Until he turns sixteen and the world decides to throw a spanner in the works. One, it takes six years to sort out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a daft one off head canon of Castiel towering over a skinny Dean.

Dean, as he did every morning, sat perched on the wall a good fifteen or twenty feet from the popular group of kids down the alley that ran behind the school.

 

They were pulling on their cigarettes, laughing and joking with each other, smiling and completely and utterly ignoring his existence. He dragged a lung full of smoke in from his own lit cigarette, wondering if they'd taken up the habit at fifteen and sixteen to look cool, or, like he had, to give him a reason to get away from his dad a few times a night.

 

The group were rowdy, but they weren't bad people, Gabriel was loud and joked about a lot, Anna, beautiful and intelligent, Castiel, quiet and watchful, with dyed black hair and a nose piercing already. Balthazar was arrogant but friendly with a mop of blond curly hair, Charlie, a genius and good natured and finally Victor, who had a wicked sense of humour.

 

Dean, scrawny and short, spotty and with less muscle definition that a potato, dropped to the floor, looking over his shoulder at the cool kids. All the guys were already starting to push six foot tall, voices deep and stubble beginning to mar their cheeks. The girls willowy and beautiful with clear skin and shiny hair. He scowled and stamped down the alley back toward the school. The bell would ring soon, and although he shared first period class with Castiel, _he_ could get away with walking in five minutes late, Dean could not.

 

He dropped the stub of the cigarette, stamping on it with his over sized boots that rubbed and gave him blisters, cursing his damned genetics that meant his voice was only just starting to break now, years after everyone else. He would be the laughing stock of the year, if he weren't so completely invisible.

 

-

 

Two weeks later and John, Dean's father, gave him only one thing for his birthday in the ten minutes they saw each other before he left for school.

 

“We're moving in a couple of days Dean, pack your shit up tonight when you get home.” He said, ignoring the date and the bruise Dean was sporting on his jaw from his father's fist the night before. Dean just heaved out a sigh and nodded, not really all that bothered either way. He had no friends, nothing to miss or leave behind. With any luck they'd have a long drive across the country and his voice would have a chance to settle before he was thrown in to a brand new school, one who's cool kids were actually interested in bullying the scrawny, spotty nerd.

 

His attention was dragged to his little brother then, already almost as tall as he was, running from his room and throwing himself silently at Dean in a huge hug. “Come on kiddo,” he said quietly, his voice breaking on the last syllable. Sam nodded and waved at their dad, pulling Dean behind him out of the door.

 

They didn't have a long walk to school, and Sam was loping along next to him, talking about some test he had to do that day until Dean interrupted with John's morning news. Sam looked heart broken. He had a decent group of friends, guys and girls, who hung out together and studied around each other's houses. Except theirs. Never theirs.

 

“It's all right, Sammy. In two years I can leave and I'll, I dunno, get custody of you or something.” He smiled at his brother, even as he knew how unlikely that was. He wasn't stupid, but he wasn't clever enough to get a good enough job straight out of school to prove capable of looking after his kid brother. “I know, Dean.” Sam smiled at him where they had stopped at the mouth of the alley. Sam hated him smoking, but he knew why he did it. The purpling bruise on his jaw was evidence enough of John's inclinations toward his eldest son, begrudging him for existing and blaming him for their mother's death.

 

He turned to walk down the alley, eyeing the group of kids already gathered there. “Hey!” Sam  called after him, before he had even taken a step, but had his hand shoved in the pocket of his  thrift shop jeans, groping for the cigarette pack. “Yeah?” 

 

“Happy birthday, dude,” Sam grinned, slightly sadly and squeezed him in a huge hug again, passing him a pink envelope before walking quickly away to join his own friends on the benches by the art department, probably eager to share their bad news and commiserate with them.

 

He stared at the baby pink thing, but put it between his teeth as he dug for his lighter.

 

As ever he struggled to pull himself up to sit on top of the brick wall, but kicked with his boots until he managed it, carefully lighting his cigarette and eyeing the envelope now held between two knuckles as he took the first drag.

 

“Cas!” One of the cool kids yelled, making Dean look up, first at Gabriel, who had shouted, then down the alley toward the late comer, Castiel. He shrugged and placed his cigarette between his lips as he poked his finger under the flap and pulled out his birthday card from his little brother. For no apparent reason it appeared to be a pink unicorn surrounded by blue sky and clouds. Sam had written a one next to the six that was printed on the card, and glued a picture of the Hulk over the unicorns face. 

 

He sniggered and rolled his eyes, smiling around the  cigarette in his mouth, opening the card to find an IOU for one gift. He smiled even wider, knowing the kid had no money. He was happy with the card. He looked up, the grin still on his face, to look straight in to Castiel's eyes as he drifted past, blue eyes matching the new streaks in the guy ' s hair.  His smile fell as he realised that Castiel, one of the cool kids, had actually made eye contact with him,  _and was still looking._

 

The boy's eyes flicked to the card in his hand, then back up to his face, a half smile touching his full lips, before he was gone, past, with his friends, and not looking back.

 

Dean felt a flush of heat rise in his cheeks.

 

_Great, five foot nothin', spots and arms as thick as a twelve year old girl's ankle, and to top it all, apparently you fuckin' fancy gothy guys and fucking blush!_

 

He dropped to the ground, taking a deep drag of the cigarette before stomping away up the alley, shoving the card in to his bag and out of sight. Castiel and his friends may not bully him, but there were enough jocks about the school who would take the opportunity if they saw a skinny boy with a pink birthday card.

 

He stamped out his cigarette as he made his way to class, taking his seat early and slumping low, grabbing his books and flicking through the novel they had been assigned to read. He discovered with mild irritation that his copy was smeared with his own blood, no doubt when he'd spat out the blood John's fist had caused when connecting the inside of his lip with his teeth.

 

He didn't notice the others coming in to class, and hardly paid attention when the teacher began droning on, making what was an interesting book the most mind numbing nonsense. He finally snapped back to reality as the bell rang, and everyone started packing up their things. He threw his bag over his shoulder and slunk through the doors, weaving to avoid an elbow to his face as the taller boys swung their bags on to their backs.

 

“Hey! Er- shit.” He heard called behind him, the swear word muttered quietly. He ignored the words, as he ignored pretty much everything yelled around him in the corridors. Nothing was ever aimed at him.

 

His breath stuttered to a fear filled stop, though, when a hand landed on his shoulder, swinging him around. _Finally_ , it had only taken three years of going to this school for the bullying to start, and on his sixteenth birthday too. He turned, resigned, and looked up in to the face of Castiel.

 

His jaw dropped, just a little.

 

“It's your birthday, right?” The boy asked, voice low and deep, eyes earnest. He could only nod dumbly, then jerk back in fearful surprise as Castiel's kuckle gently pushed against the bruise on his jaw line, a deep frown cutting his forehead.

 

“Here,” he said, dropping his hand, and pulling a black leather thong from around his neck. At the end was a pendant, brass or bronze, the head of some kind of god. “Every one needs a gift on their birthday.” Castiel smiled at him and dropped the necklace around Dean's neck, where it hung much lower on his chest than it had on Castiel's.

 

Dean just looked up at him, Castiel's blue tipped hair and high cheek bones towering over him, with wide eyes, totally bewildered.

 

The boy slapped him on the shoulder gently before grinning and sliding past him, and down the corridor, to his next class. Dean was dumbfounded.

 

He turned toward his own next lesson, sad that that was the last class he would share with Castiel.

 

-

 

“What the hell do you mean you don't wanna stay here boy?!” Bobby shouted, eyes hurt, voice angry and upset.

 

“No!” Sam held up his hands placating. “I do! I just meant I want to visit my friends during the summer, back _home._ No! I mean our other home. This is our new home, isn't that right Dean?” He threw a pleading look to where Dean lounged on Bobby's sofa, happy and relaxed and bruise free for the first time since he was five years old.

 

“You've only been here a week, kid!” Bobby sighed, clearly mollified.

 

“Bobby, you know we're happy here. He just wants to visit his old friends from our old school before term starts again. You know, now that dad's dead, he can. Right? It'll only be a couple of days. I can drive us down and back if you'll give me the time off too.” He pulled himself up and strolled across to kitchen to lean his elbows on Bobby's shoulders where he was slumped at his kitchen table looking a little dejected.

 

John had died of liver failure only ten days ago, the three of them the only attendees at the funeral. Bobby had agreed to take Sam in for the next year until he turned eighteen, and as long as needed afterwards. Dean, now twenty-one, had been working for Bobby since he left school at seventeen. It was only natural that they went to live with him, the man who had protected the both of them from John's foul temper more times than they knew. He was the reason John had moved them in the first place, offered a job once his old army friend discovered he had kids and no wife. Bobby was eternally grateful he had invited John to work with him, the state of Dean's face and torso upon arrival had been almost too much for him to cope with, seeing only his own father staring back at him from John's bleary eyes.

 

Dean rested his chin on the older man's head. “Sammy had friends down there, it's been five years, and it's the last week of the summer. We'll both be back, I promise. I got college to start remember?” He asked with a grin, still leaning on Bobby's head. Bobby grunted, but Dean knew he was smiling again.

 

Bobby knew Dean wouldn’t risk missing the first week of college. At twenty-one he was late off the mark, but with John still around there hadn’t been any chance of even applying. Thanks to Bobby, his money and support, Dean was attending college part time while he continued to work in the man's garage.

 

“Okay, okay.” The man finally grunted, shrugging Dean from him and going to pat the mammoth younger Winchester on the shoulder, “I want you back here on Saturday night, you hear?” He demanded, making both Sam and Dean nod solemnly.

 

-

 

The drive was only two and a half hours, and Dean smiled at that horrible day, over five years previously, nursing a broken rib and a black eye, when he had been disappointed that the journey wouldn't be longer and give his voice time to settle in to something less squeaky.

 

They pulled in to the motel on the edge of town, handing over the wad of bills Bobby had given him, telling them to look after each other. After booking in, Dean and Sam piled back in to John's, now Dean's car, rumbling in to their old town.

 

“Shall we get a coffee? Where are you going to try first?” Dean asked as he closed the car door gently, looking up at the independent coffee shop that hadn't been there when they'd moved away.

 

Sam nodded and followed him across the car lot. “I don't know. I was thinking of just knocking on doors. Maybe ask in the mall or something, if they've moved.” He shrugged. When they'd been dragged from town, neither of them had owned a mobile phone and John, in a drunken rage, had burnt Sam's diary, which was more of a planner, and had his friend's home phone numbers written in there.

 

They were both long past being upset over the shit their dad had pulled. Dean's no-longer-straight-nose and four badly set ribs had been the tipping point for that.

 

“What are you going to do while I'm searching for people?” Sam asked as they entered the warm and steamy coffee shop. “Dunno, walk about a bit I guess?” He shrugged and listened as Sam asked the man at the till if he knew of anyone going by his friend's names as he made their order. He didn't know of them, but Dean frowned as the man's eyes roved all over Sam's lanky frame.

 

“Medium black filter and an iced latte!” Yelled the girl at the counter, a blonde with corn rows on one side of her head, she had to be only about fourteen. “Yup!” Sam said and grabbed the cups, handing the black coffee to Dean with a smirk.

 

The place was crowded so they decided to head out, Dean and Sam, both, easily able to look over the heads of much of the crows in there and see that there were no free tables.

 

As they left, Dean was listening to Sam talk about starting out on Orchard street where Kevin had lived, as it was closest. He barely noticed the cloud of cigarette smoke in front and to their right as they veered toward the Imapala on the left of the lot, so used to ignoring that particular sense memory. His only response to the horsely whispered words “What the fuck?” as he walked past was to frown. It wouldn't have been directed at him, after all, no one knew him here, certainly not after a foot in extra height and forty pounds of lean muscle and five years distance.

 

He settled in to the drivers seat of the Impala, and leant forward to shove the key in the ignition. In the hot weather it tended to get sticky. He needed to strip it out really, and clean it properly.

 

His necklace swung forward from his chest and, unconsciously, he dropped it back inside his shirt where it usually belonged, out of sight and private to him.

 

-

 

Orchard street was a dead end, the couple living there having only moved in a few months previously. The neighbours were about as much help, not remembering a Mrs. Tran either.

 

Sam shrugged it off and suggested trying his friend Alfie's old place just three streets over, on Blossom street.

 

The old lady there, dark skinned with a huge smile, said that the Novak's had moved across town to Eldon Road. They waited patiently as she dug through a pile of paper on the table by the door to find their forwarding address.

 

Appropriately armed, Dean drove Sam across town and lingered in the car as his brother knocked on the door. The man who opened the door was tall and slim, with a grey moustache covering his lips. Even from the distance Dean sat at he could tell when the man smiled and reached up to hug Sam. They talked for five minutes his brother trotted back up the drive to the car and settled himself inside.

 

“He's away at the moment, but I gave his dad my number to pass on!” Sam was grinning from ear to ear, clearly pleased to have made some sort of contact with at least one of his old friends. “That's awesome Sammy.” Dean grinned, pleased for his brother.

 

They headed to a diner they used to go to as kids after that and grabbed enormous burgers, washing them down with cans of soda. Dean groaned and grinned. “These are just as good as I remember.”

 

That night, Sam received a text from Alfie, saying he was in England and couldn't call, but he was so excited to know Sam was back and he promised to call when he was home. He warned Sam not to reply as the costs were astronomical.

 

The next day they got up early and Dean took them for breakfast at the same diner before handing over the keys to Sam, telling him to meet him at that coffee shop for lunch. He had books to read before his course started on Monday, and he was damned if a little road trip and visit would ruin his chances of finally dragging himself out of John's ghost ridden and hand-me-down past.

 

The place was much emptier than it had been the previous day, and he curled up on one of the red leather sofas hidden in the back with his text books and a huge coffee. He was seven chapters in when someone cleared their throat above him. He turned his eyes upward and was greeted with a blue stare and long dark hair swaying above the proffered fresh cup of coffee. Dean frowned slightly, before pushing away that repressed thoughts. “Oh hells yes. Please!” He smiled up at the girl, uncomfortably conscious of her eyes on him. “Hey, sorry, um. You were in here yesterday, weren't you?” she asked and Dean nodded hesitantly. He was used to being visible now, even conscious of people checking him out and out right staring sometimes, but here? In this town? It was very strange. “Sorry, Claire said that Nick had mentioned you and your friend asking about people living here?”

 

Dean sat up, being recognizable was useful it seemed. “Yeah.” He answered, face open and hopeful. Um, I'm Garth's sister…?” She said a bit hesitantly.

 

“Oh wow! Sammy will be so pleased! I take it Garth is still living here then?” The girl nodded and smiled. “Sam? Not that tiny scrawny little thing?” She laughed, and Dean forced a chuckle out too, his own height and build at that time, only an inch or so taller than Sam, still rankled, let alone their height difference these days.

 

“Wow. Are you his...” She trailed off. “Brother. Yeah.” He answered for her, not liking where that insinuation was going. “Oh! I didn't know he had a brother!” She smiled and handed across the scrap of paper she had been writing on. “No, not many did.” He said lowly, but then read what she had written down. An address and a phone number. “Thank you-”

 

“Oh! Hannah.” She supplied. “Thanks Hannah, I'll pass this on.”

 

-

 

That night Sam closed the door behind him as he re-entered the motel room where Dean was sipping a beer slowly, staring at Dr. Sexy on the telly. “Er, Dean. That wasn't Garth's number. That was Hannah's. I mean- it was nice to talk to her n' all, and she said it was a mistake, and she hadn't been thinking, but I suspect she meant for you to call...”

 

Dean slumped back and laughed against the head board of the twin bed. “Really? That's- That's kinda cute actually! Did you, er- correct her assumptions?” He asked, his hand closing around the pendant hidden inside his dad's old t-shirt he wore to sleep in.

 

“Nah. Where would be the fun in that?” Dean grinned over at Sam's sneaky smile.

 

-

 

The next morning, Sam met up with Garth, who had called Kevin and Jess, and they all went for breakfast together. Dean decided to drive about and take in the sights of his old town before they had to head back to Bobby's, to _home,_ that afternoon.

 

He pulled up and jumped in to a tiny bakery nestled back from the main street to grab something for his lunch before heading back to the motel to pack.

 

He had his nose buried deep in the paper wrapped, appley pie goodness when he heard the words, “Holy shit!” off to his right, where, when he looked up, he just caught a car door being slammed shut. The glare of the sun was on the car's windscreen, making it impossible to see the owner of the voice. He shrugged, and licked his fingers clean before getting back in the Impala, careful not to get sticky finger prints all over his Baby.

 

-

 

Four months later and Dean was having a pre-birthday movie night with his friend Benny, as he was going out of town the next day and would miss Dean's actual birthday. Once he had finally hit puberty in school, he had lost much of his fear of bullying, and had finally pushed himself to be visible enough to work hard, and to work hard in 'shop primarily. Benny had been his best friend since they were both sixteen. The man ran a cafe in town now, managing and hoping to take it over in the next few years.

 

They were sprawled together in Bobby's lounge, the older man visiting his friend Ellen across town. Sam was studying in his room above.

 

They'd just finished the first couple of beers, and were at the point of throwing popcorn at the television, (Fantastic Four…) when Sam walked in looking a little dazed.

 

“What's up bro?” He asked, relaxed and happy. “I've just had the weirdest conversation with Alfie.” Sam stated, running a hand through his hair that Dean sorely wanted to cut. Benny got up to grab another couple of beers from the fridge, giving Sam a chance to talk.

 

“Yeah?” Sam collapsed in to the sofa. “Yeah. So, you know his family's huge? Like all his cousins went to school with us and everything?” Dean shook his head, not having a clue. “Well, he does, there's like a sister and two brothers who never moved, and they've all got kids our age. He's had like, six of them, in the last day, since he got back from the UK, asking him about you. Well, you and me, and where we live now, and if we were in town and...”

 

Dean looked up at that. “Me?” Sam nodded dumbly, and accepted the beer Benny handed him as he walked past. “I-” He began-

 

But, all three of them jumped when someone hammered on the front door three times.

 

Dean frowned and shook himself, getting up to answer the door. “Huh. I see you've forgotten my beer, you bastard.” He said to Benny as he passed, ruffling his hair a little more roughly than necessary. “Helpin' you lose those extra pounds you put on brother,” he called after him as he walked down the short corridor to the front door. “Fuck you!” He calledover his shoulder, grinning, as he pulled the door open.

 

“You, _Dean Winchester,_ are a fucking impossible man to track down.” The apparition on the other side of the door spat out as soon as he opened it. “I- Wha?” Dean answered cleverly.

 

“Do you know how long it took me to even find out your name?” The man squinted at him. “You have something of mine.” He stated grimy, poking Dean's chest. He stumbled backward a little, out of range of the crazy person. “I have spent five fucking years worrying that you died, or that I simply fucking imagined you! Jesus! And then I see you back home the day I go to visit and there you are, beyond fucking different, with my God damned necklace casually strung about your neck!”

 

Dean stopped dead. He should have worked it out really, from the aura of cigarette smoke if nothing else, but the man's appearance was confusing. Crisp white shirt under a waistcoat with a dark blue tie, black slacks. Hair, dark, but natural, an artfully tousled mess, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal brightly coloured tattoos all the way down to his wrists, bold geometric shapes and patterns covering every inch of skin. The same tattoos poking up from under the shirt collar. Red converse on his feet, piercings every where.

 

The eyes, though, they were identical.

 

“Castiel?” He asked, the confusion evident in his voice as his hand reached up and gripped the pendant sitting under his red plaid shirt where it always was.

 

“You- You want it back?” He asked really not wanting to hear it if that was the case. The necklace was more than a birthday gift on a day when all his dad had done was tell him to up and move town, and later stamp on his ribs for forgetting to pre-heat the oven for their frozen ready meals. It was the reminder, through out the next six months, before he had met Benny, when he had come to terms, completely alone, with the fact that he was gay. The necklace represented his first ever crush, the first time he had been noticed by anyone at all. It represented kindness and that more than only his brother could show it to him. It had fended off depression in the darkest of times, and if his father had tried to strangle him with it once, he had been glad that it was Castiel's necklace that had left that faint scar there, and Castiel's cheap leather string that had broken, possibly saving his life that night. The damn thing meant so much to him, more than he could even comprehend in that moment.

 

Castiel's tight, hard and slightly angry looking expression melted instantly with a tiny smile flickering up at the corners. “No, Dean. It's yours.”

 

“Look, can I come in? This is all making me look like far too much of a crazy person, and given my threshold for crazy, that's kinda high.” Dean nodded slowly and stepped back, allowing Castiel in to his home.

 

He followed the other man in to the warm lounge, suddenly realised just how cold it had been with the front door wide open. “Um- That's Sammy, my brother, and Benny, my friend. Er, this is Castiel. From, um, school.” Sam looked openly curious at that.

 

He had heard Dean mention Castiel once or twice, no more. He knew he had something to do with the pendant that Dean refused to take off, but other than that he didn't know a thing. “Hey,” “Nice to meetcha,” Sam and Benny greeted, looking between the two tense men, stood in the middle of the room staring at each other.

 

“I'll go get you that beer, brother. Want one?” Benny asked Castiel, who nodded without looking away from Dean.

 

“Yeah, I, er, gotta finish my essay.” Sam burbled and ran back up the stairs with his beer still in his hand.

 

Benny re-entered the room handing them each a bottle. “You know what brother, you look like you gottalot to catch up on here. I'll see you day after tomorrow anyway, y'know? I'll take you the cafe and treat you like the princess you are 'kay?”

 

Dean snapped out of his staring match with Castiel and nodded, grateful to his friend. “Sure, Benny. Tonight was fun. You have fun on your course tomorrow.” Benny laughed and nodded, before showing him self out the front door.

 

“I, er, I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to intrude and cut your date short.” Dean could see him eyeing the bowl of pop corn and the empty beer bottles and the movie still playing in the background. He sniggered. “Not a date. It's cool. So… How come you hunted me down and started shoutin' at me on my own front step?” He raised an eyebrow, letting his bravado do the talking while his heart beat unsteadily against the necklace this- Stunningly beautiful man had given him six years ago.

 

Castiel flopped on to the sofa and glared at the television before taking a breath. “I saw you walking out of the coffee place back home.” He finally announced. “I didn't recognize you at all.” They both chuckled, knowing that the last time they had been face to face, Dean's face had actually been on a par with Castiel's chest. He was taller than him now, he realised, think about Castiel's need to look up slightly, to poke him in the chest just a few moments before.

 

“But, I did recognize my necklace. That's- I'm glad you kept it.” Castiel suddenly smiled wide, looking up at Dean where he still stood, gripping his beer. He nearly choked at how gorgeous the man was like that.

 

“Anyway, I was too late to think about noting down your licence plate as you drove off, so I decided to just let it go, and be happy that, well, someone had that thing. I wasn't entirely sure it was you.”

 

“Not until Gabe was leaving work and saw you too, well, the necklace again. I was only back until that evening, visiting my dad before starting work at my new job. Gabe called to tell me that he'd seen you.” He laughed a little uncomfortably next, rubbing at the back of his neck and sipping the beer. “He was the only one who knew about you, you know? He'd seen you in that alley smoking a couple of times and when he saw my necklace missing, I told him I'd given it to you. Because you- er, looked like you needed some good luck that day.” He shrugged.

 

“This is your good luck charm?” Dean asked curious. Castiel nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “My mother's actually.”

 

Dean flinched and moved to take the necklace off, to hand it back over, but Castile raised his hands in a stopping motion. “I said it was yours.”

 

Dean let his hands drop, still uncomfortable. “So, yeah. Gabe. He saw it, and called me to tell me that neither of us had imagined you. And, that you were back. But just like before, the next day you were gone again. I genuinely thought you had died or something when you never came back to school after that day.” Castiel looked uncomfortable again, embarrassed.

 

“If it makes you feel better, I think you're the only person that actually ever noticed me, I'm glad someone was worried, I guess.” He laughed a little, not sure if his words were meant to calm Castiel or himself.

 

Castiel simply nodded, though, looking sad. “I know. I asked around once you'd gone, and no one knew who you were. I never knew your name until today.” He looked up and caught Dean's gaze again.

 

Gabe and I had asked around and found out you and a friend had been asking questions about people who had been living there when you did. Someone in the coffee shop finally, after asking three or four times, told us that he had told another employee and that they'd known one of you. So, another round of asking questions and we finally find out she went back to uni for the semester.” He scowled.

 

“Fucking Nick was hardly helpful. Anyway, we got it out of her eventually, that this guy's brother had been looking for a kid called Garth. Garth who happened to be best friends with my cousin, Alfie.” Castiel's gaze rose again from the beer bottle, staring at Dean with something like hope in his eyes.

 

“He'd been in England studying for the summer, the job over ran and he only showed up yesterday. There was some crap about his international phone being stolen and the internet in his bedsit had never worked or something. Sounds terrible, but the point is-” He fixed Dean with his eyes again. “That it took me until today to find out that you really were real- And-” He cut him self off, suddenly looking shifty. “And, I guess I just wanted to meet you and ask if you had a happy birthday.”

 

Dean stood in silence blinking rapidly trying to digest everything. “That's- That's why you're here?” He asked a little disbelieving.

 

Castiel let out a heavy sigh and flopped back against the sofa cushions and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. “Huh?” Dean asked, now entering bewildered territory.

 

Another sigh. “You might have been half my fucking height back than, and as built as my thigh, but I thought you were kinda cute- And, I sort of still might. And, I thought maybe you'd like to go on a date. Tomorrow? Maybe? As, you know, it's your birthday….. I dunno. Maybe. If you're even in to g-”

 

“Shut up, Cas.” Dean said, an enormous grin cutting his face in half. His words jerked Castiel from his defensive position, arms unfolding from his chest as he sat up straight to look at Dean, clearly worried until he caught sight of Dean's expression.

 

“I'd love to go on a date with you, I mean, what with you being my first crush 'n all. Oh, and I probably owe you a thanks for the most precious gift I've ever been given...” He trailed off this time, Castiel's slack jaw making him think that he had over stepped and over shared.

 

Dean grunted in surprise as the impeccably suited, tattooed man launched himself with surprising speed in to him, arms wrapping around him tightly and pressing a surprised, chaste and sweet kiss against his lips.

 

“Best good luck charm I ever parted with,” Castiel murmured as he pulled back, looking up, ever so slightly to meet Dean's eyes.

 

He huffed out a laugh, “I'll have to wait and see which comes top for best Birthday ever until tomorrow.”

 

-

 

Dean stretched out luxuriously next to Castiel in the man's hotel bed, tracing his fingers along a green zig-zig which ended in a jumble of black lines following the cut of his hip bone and in to his pubes, making the man sigh contentedly.

 

“Yeah,” Dean murmured as he rolled over to press himself back on top of the sated man, feeling his groan of want vibrate through their chests where they were pressed close together, still sweat damp and breathless. “Best birthday ever.”


End file.
